The Rescue of Sirius Black
by Mr.Anonymous.Man
Summary: After the events of fifth year, Harry can't help but think that maybe Sirius survived the Veil. Regathering the Ministry Six, now it's round 2 of Operation: Rescue Sirius Black, and this time, they're a bit more prepared.
1. Chapter 1

**I do not own Harry Potter.**

 **Chapter 1**

It was a pleasantly warm summer's day in Little Whinging, Surrey. Children of all ages frolicked in public swimming pools as their parents sipped ice cold drinks near the pool edge. Hardly a youth in the city was indoors on such a fine day. There was one notable exception.

In the smallest bedroom of the unremarkable house at Number 4, Privet Drive, sat a very remarkable young man staring blankly at his dented closet doors. A cage containing a beautiful snowy owl sat in the corner of the room, its occupant occasionally hooting balefully at her master. A trunk sat at the foot of the boy's bed, yet to be unpacked. This boy seemed to be in no mood to do anything but gaze into the distance and contemplate.

The boy was Harry Potter, fresh from his fifth year at Hogwarts' School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. It was also days after the death of his beloved Godfather, when he lead his friends into a trap designed by the darkest wizard in recent history. Days since he learned that he was destined to kill this Dark Lord, known by the moniker Lord Voldemort, or be killed in the process. But it was not of these very remarkable events that Harry was contemplating, but of something told to him by a very observant friend.

"They're just beyond the veil," Luna Lovegood had said, using her unusual insight to comfort him in his grief. There was just something that rang true about that simple statement of fact. Despite the fact that most of what Luna said was utterly bizzare and unbelievable, Harry took this on faith.

"Just beyond the veil," Harry repeated aloud to himself, startling his owl Hedwig. "He's just beyond the veil."

At this point, Harry had no concrete ideas, no plan to speak of. Half-formed concepts floated around his mind, tantalizing him. The pieces fit together, he knew it. He just couldn't put them together. Sirius wasn't dead, he was just trapped behind the veil. How to get him out without getting trapped himself, though, that was a problem. The solution was just out of reach, not quite congealed from the stew of his mind.

"Aaargh!" Harry stood up in frustration, kicking his trunk. "I need to know more! Hermione could figure this out, I know she could, I just need..."

He stopped dead, smacking himself in the forehead. "Hermione. How did I not think to ask her before now?"

The boy opened his trunk, rummaging through his worldly posessions, streaming clothes, books, and knick-nacks onto the floor. He emerged triumphantly clutching a handful of parchment, a gnarled quill, and a half-empty bottle of ink. Harry sat down at the rickety old desk that had once belonged to his cousin and began excitedly penning a letter.

 _Hermione_

 _I know I shouldn't really ask you for anything, not after what happened at the Ministry. But I need your help. Luna said something to me before we left Hogwarts, and it's crazy but I just can't get it out of my mind. She told me that Sirius is just beyond the veil, and I know that Lupin thinks he's dead, and Dumbledore too, but I just can't accept that. There's just something profound about Luna's words that makes me believe they're true._

Harry stopped his frantic writing, and read what he had written. "I sound like a madman," he muttered to himself.

He began writing again, this time at a more measured pace.

 _Sorry, I know that makes me sound like I'm crazy, but I just have to know. I need to know more about that archway, and I don't know anyone who can figure out stuff like that better than you._

 _If you don't want to help, I'll understand. But I have to do this._

 _Harry_

Harry rolled the letter up, unlatched his owl's cage, and tied the letter to her leg. "Go on, Hedwig. Take this to Hermione and wait for a reply." He walked over to the window, opening it and letting a blast of heat wash over his face. "Oh, and don't peck her this time," he remembered.

Watching Hedwig fly away into the clear summer sky, Harry sat back onto his bed. With a sigh, he realized that there was nothing more that he can do about that except wait for a reply.

Deciding that a nice walk might do him some good, Harry haphazardly repacked his stuff, shoving the battered trunk under the bed. He left the window open in case Hedwig returned before he did. Stopping at the fridge to get an apple (an attempt by his Aunt Petunia to make Dudley's diet more palatable), he stared outside the window where he knew a member of the Order of the Phoenix stood guard, invisible.

He cautiously moved outside, calling out for the guard. "Tonks? Mundungus? Professor Lupin? Mad-eye? Hello?"

After a beat, a shimmering figure appeared next to Harry, their disillusionment spell dropping. "Wotcher Harry," said a very sullen looking Tonks. Her hair, normally a vibrant pink, was limp and brown, and she had noticable bags under her eyes.

"Blimey, Tonks. Are you alright?" Harry asked, before cursing inwardly. Of course she wasn't, Sirius was her cousin and everyone believed he was dead.

She waved him off. "Oh, I'm alright. It's nothing, I'm just tired."

He scrutinized her for a moment, but decided to let it drop. "I was wondering if you'd like to take a walk to the park or something," he said before taking a bite of his apple. "I don't know about you, but I need to unwind."

She smiled, but it lacked her normal bubbly enthusiasum. "Sure, I'll go with you. I mean, Dumbledore wouldn't be terribly happy if I let you go off by yourself, would he?"

"No, I suppose he wouldn't," Harry agreed. And with that, they began their walk.

Passing by several teenagers in swimsuits, they made their way to the local park. Harry sat down on one of the swings, idly swaying in the summer breeze, and started talking.

"You know, in every one of my encounters with Voldemort," Harry began, ignoring Tonks' involuntary shudder, "it's been luck, or running away really fast that's saved me. My skills with magic have very rarely helped. I need to get better, Tonks."

"That's bunk," she replied immediately. "You're plenty good at magic. You had a corporeal Patronus in your third year, for Merlin's sake!"

Harry shook his head. "Yeah, I did, but a Patronus isn't going to help me beat Voldemort."

Tonks shuddered again, before looking at Harry oddly. "Why do you think it's up to you to beat him? Can't Dumbledore, or a team of Aurors, take care of that?"

Harry stopped, realizing he was perilously close to leaking the secret entrusted to him only days ago by Professor Dumbledore. "Maybe you're right," he spoke carefully, "but I don't think Voldemort is going to just let me go on."

"True enough," Tonks replied. "If you're thinking you need special magical training, it won't help. You-know-who is the most powerful Dark Lord in recent history. It would take decades to be able to match his skill in single combat."

"No," she continued, thinking out loud, "maybe you were right about spells not being the way to beat him."

"That's not what I said," Harry objected, but Tonks ignored him.

"Maybe you need some physical training, help you survive your next encounter," she gave him a genuine smile now. "I could probably help a bit, but you might think about enrolling in some physical activities over the summer. Sportsball, or something."

Harry laughed, a sharp barking sound that seemed out of place in the current atmosphere. "Sportsball?"

"Yeah, or fencing, or martial arts or something," she continued, oblivious to Harry's reaction.

Harry smothered another laugh. "Hmm, martial arts. Punching Voldemort seems like a good way to die," he mused, "but fencing could help. That needs lots of dexterity, right?"

Tonks nodded, pleased that her suggestion was being considered. "Yeah, and it should be good practice for later on, when you learn how to deflect curses with your wand."

"Hmm, I might look around for fencing lessons. I'm sure that someone around here is teaching it, right?" Harry asked, more to himself than to Tonks.

Their conversation was interrupted by the arrival of a very proud-looking snowy owl, a letter tied to her leg. Harry looked up at Hedwig, extending his arm for her to land on, and took the letter carefully. "That was surprisingly quick," he remarked.

"What do you mean?" Tonks asked.

"Oh, it's just that I sent the original letter less than half an hour ago," he replied, unrolling the parchment.

 _Dear Harry_

 _I am your friend, before the Ministry, and after the Ministry. Don't ever feel like you can't ask me for something, do you hear me? I will always help you, as will the rest of your friends. So if you ever need anything, just ask, okay? I'm here for you, as is Ron, Ginny, Neville, and Luna. I know that none of us blame you for anything that happened at the Ministry._

 _That being said, I'm not sure that it's healthy for you to be dwelling on this. I was reading "A Foray into Developmental Psychology" by Dr. Cameron Milner (a welcome-back gift from my family) and apparently it's not healthy to stay in denial of such a loss for long. Despite Luna's good intentions, you must admit she has a penchent for believing her overactive imagination. She is truly very nice, and I'm sure she believes what she said, but I don't think it's rooted in anything more than superstition. Remember, just because something sounds profound doesn't mean it's true._

 _I've told my parents a little of what happened, and they agreed that it's best that you are around your friends for now. So, I want to extend an invitation for you to visit me at my home. The address is 294 Rossmo Lane, in London. Owl back if you can make it, and don't worry about disturbing me. I'm basically just sitting in my room doing Professor Snape's essay - have you started on that, by the way?_

 _I will help you however I can. If you'd like, we'll go visit Diagon Alley's magical library when you come to my house (though visiting that library is quite expensive, on the order of 30 galleons). If any information on the archway is accessable, it would be found there._

 _Awaiting your reply anxiously,_

 _Hermione_

"I'm not in denial," Harry denied, before clearing his head with a shake. "Hey Tonks, could we make a trip to Diagon Alley? I need to get some gold."

Tonks shook her head. "Sorry, probably not on such short notice. I can mention it to Bill though, he could withdraw some for ya. How much do ya need?"

Harry thought for a moment, "I think I'll need three hundred galleons," he said, wanting to leave a large margin.

Tonks blinked. "Cor, Harry. What are you planning on doing, buying a new broom?"

"Nah, just need some spending money, and want to make sure I don't run out. Oh, and I need some muggle money too. Maybe five hundred pounds to be safe."

Harry stood up, urging Hedwig back to Number 4 Privet Drive, and beckoned to Tonks. "Come on, it seems I have a reply to write."

* * *

 _Hermione_

 _Thanks for the offer, I'd love to visit you. I'll bring some money so we can go to this library (I'm sure that you're chomping at the bit to get a look inside). We don't have to spend the whole time doing that research either, if you want to do other reading or something._

 _I know that Luna doesn't always make perfect sense, but she's pulled through when we needed her before. You didn't believe her about the Thestrals, and they certainly managed to take us to London without much of an issue._

 _Tonks has recommended that I find some sort of swordfighting class to take over the summer, to improve my dexterity and help my chances of survival against Voldemort. I also think that maybe we could learn some spells together (the theory only, bleck) to help with that. Maybe we could even take the swordfighting class together!_

 _As for Snape's essay, he only accepts students who got an O on their OWLs, and I'm pretty sure I didn't get that good. Which means that I don't have to do it!_

 _See you soon,_

 _Harry_

 _Professor Dumbledore_

 _Hermione has invited me to visit her home in London, and I was wondering if I could go. The Dursleys have already agreed that I can go, on the condition that they don't have to drive me or anything._

 _I await your reply,_

 _Harry_

Having written his letters, Harry tied one to each of Hedwig's legs, giving her an owl treat.

"Take this to Hermione, and then this one to Dumbledore," he told his owl. She stared at him for a moment, before affectionately nipping at his finger.

As Hedwig flew out the window once more, Harry looked around the room for something, anything to do. With a sigh, he picked up a bent junior golf club that Dudley had broken years ago, and gave it an experimental swing. The club felt surprisingly light in his hands, but the swooshing sound it made was quite satisfying.

Harry spent several minutes swinging the club around carefully, pretending to be wielding a blade and imagining the look on Voldemort's face as he gets his head chopped off. Finally, Harry had enough of that nonsense, and put down the club. He left the house without a word to his aunt and uncle, who both ignored his brief presence, and started walking towards the local public library.

The identical houses became a blur to Harry as he passed by, not paying attention to the perfectly manicured lawns and sculpted gardens. Passing by two children out biking, a man washing his shiny new black car, and a child's unattended lemonade stand, he arrived at the Rosewell Public Library.

The library was a large white building with peeling paint, dirty windows, and a damaged sign on the door read "open". Giving the door a push, Harry entered the dingy underfunded library.

Immediately he was greeted with the smell of dust. Clearly this library was not used much by the citizens of Little Whinging. At the chipped mahogany desk near the front sat a woman with a green scarf and a pair of gaudy spectacles. She gave a fake cough ("Hem-hem") which immediately set Harry on edge.

"Can I help you, young man," she began, not unkindly, "or are you going to stand in the doorway all day?"

Harry tried to be polite. "Sorry, yeah. I'm looking for some books," he trailed off, realizing how stupid he sounded. "Specifically books about magic, alchemy and stuff."

She gave him a smile, and pointed to the far corner of the small library. "Fantasy's right on that shelf. Nothing much there, I'm afraid," she said wistfully. "There was a real push recently against that sort of thing. Stuff that got blown way out of proportion."

Harry nodded politely, not really interested in the local politics of such little significance. "Thanks," he said, moving to the shelf in question.

He browsed through their tiny collection. Several titles looked interesting, but ultimately unhelpful. He found a treatise of the magic used in some of the Arthurian tales, a rulebook for a magic game with a demon idol on the front, and a book published warning of the dangers of using unholy spells, but nothing he could use to learn about the Veil.

"Dunno why I expected differently," Harry muttered to himself, "gotta wait till tomorrow to find actual information I guess."

Back in his room, Harry grinned at the response he had just recieved from Dumbledore. It was simple and to the point.

 _I shall arrive at 10:00 AM sharp. Be ready._


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

The next morning, Harry waited eagerly at the door of Number 4, Privet Drive. Having recieved his gold from Hestia Jones earlier that morning _("Bill sends his compliments")_ , he was prepared for the coming day. He had his wand in his back pocket, and had hidden his trunk with the rest of his worldly posessions under the loose floorboard. The Dursleys couldn't damage his stuff while he was away if they couldn't find it.

At precicely 10:00 AM Harry's digital watch beeped, and two short raps rang out from the front door. He eagerly opened the door and looked up into the smiling, bearded face of Albus Dumbledore. The headmaster was resplendant in lurid green robes, and sported a new beard clip in the shape of a five-pointed star. The clip held his waist-length white beard in check but did nothing to restrain the rest of his flowing hair.

"Good morning, Harry," Professor Dumbledore said, his aquamarine eyes twinkling like gems over his half-moon glasses. "I trust you are prepared for your visit?"

Harry returned Dumbledore's smile, feeling slightly awkward in the man's presence. He remembered all too well the state he had left the man's office in, just a few short weeks prior.

"Yes, professor. Thank you for taking me," Harry blinked, and found he could no longer look his mentor in the eye. "Sorry about your office," he apologized softly.

Dumbledore waved his apologies off arily. "No harm done, Harry. As I said, I do have far too many posessions. Let's call it spring-cleaning." He leaned in and whispered conspiratorily, "Just between you and me, I'm not entirely sure what most of those things did anyway."

Harry looked up at the professor, and smiled his thanks. "By the way, Professor, I like the new beard clip. It suits you."

"Thank you, Harry. I bought it off a chap in Diagon Alley who told the funniest joke," Dumbledore began, before remembering himself. "Shall we be off, then?" Dumbledore asked jovially.

"Yes please," Harry replied. "I'm sure Hermione can't wait to scour that library and turn it upside-down."

Dumbledore smiled wryly. "She does have a certain facination with books, doesn't she."

Harry didn't answer. It was, after all, a rhetorical question.

Dumbledore offered Harry his hand, and explained. "We will be apparating today."

"But," Harry said, reluctant to contradict the man, "I don't know how to apparate."

Dumbledore chuckled, his hair flopping behide his glasses. "That is alright, Harry. I will help you. Take my hand."

Harry looked at him for a moment, then complied. With a soft pop both wizards were gone, leaving the Dursleys' front door hanging open.

294 Rossmo Lane in London, otherwise known as the Granger residence, was a small house on the outskirts of London. The home itself was painted a rustic brown with clear tall windows and drawn curtains. The house would have looked quite normal, if not for the gnomes. Covering the lawn were dozens of garden gnomes of the fat santa variety, with their rotund bellies pointed into the air and fishing lines inappropriately strewn about. In the driveway was a brand new yellow convertable, which looked as if someone had spent a considerable amount of time waxing it recently.

It was into this hodgepodge of gaudy conflicting items that Professor Dumbledore and Harry Potter apparated. Dumbledore himself was unfazed, and knocked politely. Harry stood there, reeling for a moment at the sensory overload - both the sense of being squished through a garden hose, and the horrible christmas gnomes.

After a moment, a flushed Hermione answered the door. Her hair was bushy and brown, which seemed to have grown more frizzy since the term ended. "Professor, Harry, come in!" she gestured. "Would you like some tea," she offered, remembering her manners.

After entering, Dumbledore began. "I'm afraid I can't stay, Miss Granger." Harry shook his head no for the tea, though Hermione didn't notice.

Hermione looked up at the very tall, bearded headmaster. "Of course." She hesitated a moment, before offering some advice. "You may want to be careful apparating, as my neighbors are very curious folks."

Dumbledore smiled knowingly at her, "Indeed I will. There is a spell, which most adult wizards have learned, that hides a wizard's presence from muggles. I have already performed that spell this morning and am still under its effects."

Hermione flushed, embarrased to be caught in her not-so-subtle chiding.

"If school was in session, I would award points for your cautiousness," Dumbledore added kindly. After a slight pause, he reiterated. "I really must be off, though. I will return to escort Harry back at 10:00 PM. Have a good day, both of you."

And with that, arguably the most powerful wizard in the world apparated out Hermione Granger's entrance room.

Hermione shook her head slightly in bewilderment, and then turned to capture Harry in a bone crushing hug. "Oh Harry, how are you doing? Have you had enough to eat, are you thirsty?" she began rambling.

Harry stopped her. "I'm fine, Hermione, really." He smiled reassuringly at her. "So, I know you're dying to go to that library," he said teasingly.

She smiled. "Are you ready to go?"

Harry nodded, motioning for the door. "After you."

Once they both were standing on the walk leading up to her house, Harry began questioning whether this was really all that well thought out.

"So," Harry began conversationally, "Do you have any idea how we're gonna get to Diagon Alley?"

Hermione looked at him, one eyebrow raised. Harry backpedalled immediately. "Oh right, of course you do. You're Hermione. What _was_ I thinking?"

She smirked at him, internally beaming with suppressed pride. "We're taking my car, silly."

Harry looked around, and saw the yellow convertable again. "Really, that's your car? You can drive it?"

"Yes, Harry, I can. And I'm quite good at it, as well."

Harry smiled, teasing Hermione. "Just checking." He hopped into the passenger seat and waited for Hermione to start driving.

The ride to Diagon Alley was quiet, with light conversation about how Hermione's summer had been going. The topic of Sirius' apparent death and Harry's refusal to believe it was not broached, both parties understanding that this was not the time for such a discussion.

Their arrival in Diagon Alley was quiet. The alley, formerly full of life and bustling activity, was papered over with wanted posters. Dozens of Death Eaters jeered and cackled at them from their photographic prisons. Unnerved, both Harry and Hermione hurried to the library.

In contrast to the dingy, disrepaired library in Little Whinging, this library was a work of art. Pillars of stone rose into the air like a Greek temple, and through the windows thousands of bookshelves were visible. Flickering torches illuminated the entrance, burning bright even in the mid-morning sun.

Harry paid the 60 galleons for their entry, ignoring Hermione's halfhearted protest, and asked her where they should start.

Four hours later, they had a stack of books up to Harry's chest. Hermione was engrossed in _Planar Portals & You _by Hector Fenwick, and Harry was trying to skim through disturbing historical descriptions in _Killing Killers: A History of the Death Penalty_.

 _For a brief time in 1326, the accepted method of execution in the magical province of Keltor was death by asphyxiation. This was due to the fact that the ruler at the time (Lord Ulgath) was..._

 _...fourteen peasants were choked to death before the duke caught on..._

 _...a short trial, and Ulgath was the last person to be executed via asphyxiation until..._

 _...the British Ministry used an archway known as the Veil of Death between 1462 and 1469..._

Harry started. "Hermione, I think I found something. Page 141," he gestured to the entry. "It says here that the Veil as an execution method was abolished because it was actually a naturally ocurring, semi-stable planar portal. A fact which was only discovered when one prisoner managed to escape and lead a hydra through the depths of the ministry."

Hermione smiled, then looked pensive. "It wouldn't surprise me," she grudgingly admitted. "Though the semi-stable part worries me."

But Harry wasn't listening to her negativity. This was confirmation of everything he had hoped. The veil _didn't_ kill everyone who went through it. "We have to go get him," Harry said, resolved.

"Hold on, we don't even know how to stabilize the portal yet!" Hermione objected. "And don't forget, the last time we went to the ministry half-cocked, it didn't end very well."

Harry stopped, shocked. Hermione immediately looked panickedly repentant, but Harry cut over her apologies. "No, you're right. We do need to think this through. And we need everyone in on this."

Hermione sighed deeply in relief, apparently satisfied. "I'll look into this alternate plane more. If you want, you can go look in the quidditch store or get ice cream or something. I'll meet you after?"

Harry shook his head. Leaving Hermione alone to do serious research on his behalf while he went and goofed off wasn't alright. "No, I'll stay. I might look up useful spells we might need, or something."

Harry pored through tome after tome, and found hundreds of useless spells. "Honestly, who needs five _different_ hexes to make an enemy's toenails shrink," he asked Hermione disgustedly after flipping through _Humbert's Hilarious Hexes_.

She laughed. "Harry, you're looking in the wrong books if you want useful spells. The best ones are the hardest to learn."

He frowned, frustrated at his lack of progress. "But I don't have a lot of time. I need spells that are easy to learn!"

She shook her head. "No, you need to learn one really good, useful spell." She put down her tome, _Fantastic Fantasies: A Guide to Planar Travel_ , and picked another book off the shelf. "Try this book," she said softly. "It looks like it's got some pretty useful stuff."

Harry looked at the book reluctantly. The cover was simple, brown leather with black stitching. _Jal-Kem's Guide to Self Defense_. He began looking through the table of contents, until one spell caught his eye.

 _Protection against Evil, p270_

Harry eagerly flipped to page two hundred and seventy, and read the description. "You were right, Hermione. This spell might help protect me against Voldemort. At very least, it will stop him from trying to possess me again."

Harry read the casting instructions and smiled. It did not look very complicated. The only special thing it needed was powdered iron and silver.

After Hermione was finished copying the relevant passages from her stack of books into a small reference notebook, she and Harry returned to her house. As they drove back, Harry realized he didn't really know a lot about Hermione's life outside of school.

"So, why did you decide to get a car?" Harry asked her.

She smiled sadly, breathing deeply. "I didn't. My parents decided to get it for me."

"Why do you say that like it's a bad thing?" Harry inquired. "That seems like a really nice thing for them to do."

"It is," she sighed. "They did it because they feel like they're losing me to the magical world, and to an extent; they're right."

"Oh," Harry didn't have much to say to that.

"It's not that they think I love them less or anything," she continued, "but it's hard for them to not be able to understand something that's such a big part of my life. They try to make up for it, by learning as much as they can and including me in the things that normal muggles do, but it's just not enough. I'm gone too often, and no matter how much you read about magic, it's just not the same as experiencing it."

Harry sat in the passenger seat, letting her explain. "Go on," he encouraged.

"I just feel guilty, because I'm enjoying magic so much and it's putting a wall between my parents and I. I don't know what to do about it, Harry."

"Talk to them," Harry said. "They're trying, and they want to be a part of your life. Like Sirius does for me."

Hermione smiled, blinking back a tear. "I don't know why I'm being so emotional, I'm not usually like this, I swear. I hope I'm not ruining your first visit."

"You're not," Harry reassured. "Everyone deserves to vent every once in a while. Merlin knows I've done it to you more than once."

They turned into the driveway of the Granger residence, and Hermione told Harry that her parents were likely home. "Dinner will probably be ready in half an hour," she said.

They walked into the house to the smell of cooking meat. "My father is a really good cook," she explained, "and really likes steak. I'll just go tell him we're home, and then we can both go up to my room."

At Harry's snicker, she punched him in the arm. "Bugger off, you know what I meant."

From across the house, two voices floated out lazily. "Language, Hermione."

Red-faced, Hermione replied. "Sorry Mum, Dad." To Harry, she said quietly, "Well, I guess they know we're home."

Harry and Hermione went upstairs to her room, which surprisingly contained only one bookshelf. The rest of the room was furnished with a desk and computer, a large curtained bed, a dresser, a wooden toybox, and a medium sized closet. As they entered, her father's voice rang after them. "Door stays open!"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Honestly, dad," she muttered irritably.

They sat down at Hermione's desk, Harry pulling up the wooden toybox to use as a chair. She pulled out a pen and paper, and they began drafting a letter to send to their friends.

 _Dear __

 _I would like to ask your help with something important. In a few weeks, Hermione and I are planning a rescue mission for Sirius. He isn't dead. We've discovered that the veil is actually an unstable planar portal. If you don't want to help, we understand, but we fight best together, and we have no idea what's on the other side of that curtain. Your assistance would be greatly appreciated._

 _If you do intend to come along, you should begin training up whatever skills you think would be useful on such a quest. Go for the unexpected, if possible._

 _Please reply once you have come to a decision._

 _Harry & Hermione_

"We need to send a different message to Ron," Harry said. Hermione nodded her agreement.

 _Ron_

 _Are you up for a summer adventure? We're gonna rescue Sirius._

 _Harry_

Hermione read it over and scoffed. "Boys."

They were called downstairs for a nice steak meal, in which Hermione's father began interrogating Harry.

"So, what are your plans for the summer, Harry?" Mr Granger asked, his moustache twitching.

Harry chewed his steak before answering. "I'm thinking of learning swordfighting," he admitted.

Mr Granger gave a wicked grin at that. "Oh, really? I'm a fair hand with a longsword, I could show you a few things if you'd like."

Mrs Granger, picking up on what her husband's little game, decided to help him out. "Oh he's being modest, dear. He was a three-time regional duelling champion in his university days."

Hermione saw what was happening as well, and retaliated on Harry's behalf. "Well, Harry's not too shabby either. He killed a sixty-foot long snake with a sword at age thirteen, isn't that right, Harry?"

Harry looked between Hermione and her parents. "Yes, but that was mostly blind luck and Fawkes' help," he admitted modestly.

"Oh, now Harry's being modest," Hermione teased.

For a moment, no one said a word. Then without warning, as if following some invisible cue, the three Grangers burst into uncontrollable laughter. Harry looked around at them in bewilderment, which only made them laugh harder.

After they calmed down, Mr Granger repeated his offer to teach Harry, more seriously this time. Harry told him that he would certainly consider it, but that he wasn't sure how he would get back and forth often enough for such training.

"Well, couldn't you get your headmaster to make you one of those Port Keys?" Mrs Granger suggested.

Harry though for a minute. "I could ask him, yeah. I'm not sure that's strictly legal though," he admitted.

Hermione snorted. "The Ministry of Magic has the silliest of laws. For example, there's no law against slavery, but there are six governing a wizard breeding new types of chickens."

Harry winced, and hoped that Hermione wasn't going to start another SPEW rant.

"Hang on," Harry said slowly, "We may not need the headmaster to make me a portkey." He took a breath, and braced himself. "Dobby?"

Immediately, a crack resounded in the air, and the diminuative house-elf appeared next to Harry. Dobby was wearing a tower of knitted woolen hats that looked more like bladders than toques. Mr Granger spilled his glass of water, and Mrs Granger gave a half-shriek.

"Oh my goodness, you startled us," she said, composing herself.

Dobby looked around curiously at Hermione's family. "You called Dobby, Harry Potter sir?" he said, staring at Harry with his large tennis-ball eyes.

Harry nodded. "Yeah, can you take people with you when you apparate?"

Dobby nodded furiously. "Oh yes, Harry Potter sir, Dobby can be bringing anyone you like."

"Great!" Harry beamed. "Well, I'd like to come here every few days, could you bring me?"

Dobby grinned, "Of course, Harry Potter sir. Dobby can be doing this every day if you like!"

Mr Granger interjected here, having righted his glass. "Every other day will suffice, Mr Dobby."

Dobby gave a deep bow. "You can call Dobby when you want to be leaving."

He vanished with a loud crack, leaving silence in his wake. Hermione broke it by asking, "Were those my hats?"

Hermione's mother muttered under her breath, "I though I recognized your knitting."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Over the next few weeks, Harry recieved responses from each of the friends that had so loyally followed him into battle. Ron's response arrived immediately, gushing about how his new dragonhide shirt (a gift from Charlie) would come in handy on this adventure.

Neville was the next to respond, telling Harry that he would bring the ancestral Longbottom sword and armor to whatever fight Harry was walking into. Luna's letter was confusing, but positive, offering her skills with animals (citing several that Harry was almost certain did not truly exist). Ginny responded by telling Harry that if he decided to go off without her, she would " _cast my Bat Bogey Hex at a place you don't want bats crawling out of_."

With his friends all in agreement, Harry concentrated on training to improve his skills. Every second day, he would have Dobby bring him to the Grangers'. While he waited for Mr Granger to return from his dental practice, he and Hermione would go over her notes on the portal. She had been cross-referencing her original notes with muggle articles which she accessed with her computer. They had not gotten very far with that, despite Hermione's optimism that the answers could be found with Muggle technology.

Once Mr and Mrs Granger arrived home from their dental practice, Harry would begin his swordsman training. Mr Granger had told him that Harry's favored style was lighter, focusing on mobility and fast reactions, and began training him with more lightweight weapons. Despite his tutor reassuring him that he was making excellent progress, Harry was beginning to get discouraged.

"I just can't seem to break through his defenses," Harry groused to Hermione one day, as she was perusing a book checked out from the local public library.

"My dad has years of experience, Harry," she reminded him gently. "You expect too much of yourself."

Harry sighed in defeat. "Yeah, I know. It's just, I expected to be better at it by now."

Hermione looked up from her book, thinking. "Hmm. In his letter, Neville said he had a sword, didn't he? Couldn't you practice with him on the days you aren't training with my dad?"

Harry lit up. "You're brilliant, Hermione! I'll owl him when I get back to the Dursleys' tonight," he said excitedly.

She smiled patiently, and returned to her book. "You know, we ought to get the whole group together and discuss this plan. We're almost ready to go, a couple more days and I'll have the equations necessary to stabilize the portal."

"I'll arrange it," Harry agreed. "Perhaps on the weekend."

"We can have the meeting at the Burrow," she said. "You'll have to check with Mrs Weasley to see if it's okay."

Mrs Weasley's response was as short as it was full of warmth. _Come over any time, Harry dear._

The responses from his friends were similarly affirmative. Come Saturday, the six teenaged witches and wizards met at the Burrow to lay out a plan of attack.

"We need to get into the Ministry," Hermione began the meeting after the pleasantries were out of the way, "and get down to the Department of Mysteries again. Does anyone have any ideas on how to accomplish that?"

Neville piped up quietly, "Well, what about asking Dumbledore? The Ministry is practically begging on bended knee for his forgiveness," he trailed off.

Harry nodded. "That's a good start, but I'm not sure Dumbledore would want this plan to go forward."

Luna piped up, her ethereal voice ever reassuring. "I think we should call this an Operation. Everything is better if it has a fancy name. The Department of Mysteries, the Rotfang Conspiracy, the Order of the Phoenix."

Hermione stared at Luna. "Skipping over the first part, how did you know about the Order of the Phoenix? That's supposed to be a secret organization."

Luna stared back at her with unblinking eyes. Hermione looked away, mildly uncomfortable. "So is the Rotfang Conspiracy."

To avoid another Luna/Hermione argument, Harry piped in. "I think calling it Operation: Rescue Sirius Black is pretty good."

Hermione conceded the point. "In any case, I'm sure that if we all go to Professor Dumbledore, he'll certainly help. He is a reasonable man, he should listen to our arguments."

"Alright, assuming he does help, how do we move through the veil safely?" Ron asked, moving to the next part of the plan.

"I've come up with a stabilization matrix for the portal, but we haven't covered how to implement them in my Arithmancy class yet," Hermione replied. "Maybe Professor Dumbledore can help with that as well."

"Does anyone else think this plan ought to be more than just 'Dumbledore will do it'?" Ginny asked wryly.

Ron rebutted, gesticulating sharply, "Yeah, that's the next part. The heroic rescue, which is us."

"Dumbledore might want to do that part too," Neville said softly.

"Maybe," Hermione said, "but I think I can convince him otherwise."

"We could always ask him," Luna said, her vacant stare pointed somewhere over Harry's left shoulder.

Hermione gave her a funny look. "That's what we're discussing, Luna."

A deep, ancient voice rang out from the dining room behind Harry. "Young Miss Lovegood is correct, Miss Granger," said the voice of Albus Dumbledore. "Seeing as I am present, and having completed my Order business, we can have whatever discussion you would like in the comfort of Mrs Weasley's fine plush couches."

Dumbledore took a seat opposite the group, reached into his maroon robes, and pulled out a frayed cloth bag. "Lemon drop?" he asked with his signature twinkling eyes.

Harry, being the only one used to the Headmaster's unusual mannerisms, accepted a sweet. Luna grabbed a handful and began chewing noisily.

"Sir," Harry began, "we have reason to believe that my godfather is still alive."

Dumbledore sat back and steepled his fingers. "Harry, I understand it is difficult to accept, but Sirius Black is dead. There is, regretfully," here he paused, "no magic in this world that can alter that fact."

"No sir," Hermione interjected, "Harry's right. We've looked into it. The Veil is actually an unstable planar portal."

Dumbledore's eyebrows flew into his silver hair. "Indeed? Where did you find such information?"

Hermione took her notebook out of her bag, handing it dutifully to the Headmaster. He perused it for several minutes, making vauge, unintentional noises of surprise and intrigue. Finally, he closed the notebook and returned it to Hermione.

"This is certainly interesting information. However, it makes no difference," Dumbledore said regretfully. "We cannot risk anyone, especially yourselves," he looked pointedly at Harry, "in an unstable, unpredictable magical portal."

Harry felt crushed, and a sliver of burning anger began crawling from his stomach. Before he could say anything he would regret, Hermione cut in. "Sir, we are going to rescue Sirius Black with or without your help. Our chances of success -and survival- are greater if you do help, but we are doing this."

Dumbledore blinked owlishly, taken aback at her forceful manner. "Miss Granger, be reasonable. I cannot allow six schoolchildren to risk their lives like this."

"You can't stop us," Ron said, "We'll keep trying until we succeed."

Neville nodded his agreement, and Ginny looked ready to spit fire. Luna was happily crunching up her Lemon Drops, oblivious to everything else.

"I will go in your place," Dumbledore spoke commandingly. "My powers are above yours, however impressive you all are," he added. "There is no need for _you_ to risk your lives," he gave Harry a significant look.

"No," Hermione argued, "You need to stay here. You're the only wizard Vold- Voldemort ever feared."

Dumbledore sighed heavily, pinching his nose in defeat. "What would you have me do? I have a responsibility for your safety."

Ginny glared, "You can't guarantee our safety here. Tom is back, and he's already sending his followers to kill and rip families apart."

"We have to grow up sometime," Neville added.

"Sirius deserves to be brought home, after everything he's been through," Harry finished.

"And another plane of existance is a pretty safe place from the Dark Lord," Luna said through her mouthful of candy. "So Harry would be relatively safer there than he is here."

Dumbledore held up his hand, closing his eyes. "I must think on this."

After several minutes of thought, in which Harry and his friends sat around awkwarldy, Dumbledore spoke up quietly.

"Very well," Dumbledore conceded, "You have convinced me. However, I have several conditions. You _will_ take an adult escort trained in advanced magical combat. That is _non-negotiable_ ," he said forcefully. "Miss Tonks will serve as your chaperone for your trip tomorrow. You will follow her instructions without hesitation, no matter what your personal thoughts on them are. Is that clear?"

"Yes," the group chorused, Luna later than the others.

"And you will all need permission from your guardians," he added. At their clearly objecting faces, he spoke more forcefully. "This is _also_ non-negotiable. You will get permission, or you will not participate."

Ron and Ginny stood up together. "We'll go get that right now."

Neville and Luna both stood up, and Neville headed towards the floo. "Me too," Neville said, returning to Longbottom Manor.

"I'll go ask Daddy, he'll be so excited," Luna said before skipping out the back door.

Several minutes later (during which Harry was thouroughly defeated in a game of Exploding Snap by the Headmaster), Ron and Ginny returned with satisfied smiles on their faces. "Dad gave his permission," Ginny said proudly to the Headmaster.

"Grudgingly," Ron added, though he too seemed proud.

A few moments later, a shriek stormed through the Burrow. "You said _WHAT!?_ " screamed the shrill voice of Mrs Weasley.

Harry and Hermione looked at each other, before beating a hasty retreat.

Harry returned to the Dursleys' immediately, and sought out his Uncle Vernon.

"Uncle," he began confidently, "I need your permission to go on a journey. It's incredibly dangerous, and I'll probably die within minutes of the start,"

He had to go no further. His uncle waved him off, "Whatever, if you want to, you have my permission. Just don't expect me to help you," he said, returning to watching the football game.

Harry smiled. _That was easy,_ he thought to himself.

He returned to his room, and started thinking about the plan in earnest. What he needed was proper armor, and a good sword. He quickly penned a letter to Dumbledore, requesting to borrow the _Sword of Gryffindor_ for the duration of the mission. As for the armor, he reasoned that he could find a muggle store that sold some on short notice.

A search through the yellow pages proved otherwise. Apparently there wasn't much need for armor to block swords anymore, at least not in the muggle world.

"Dobby," Harry asked the little elf, "do you know of any magical armorers?"

Dobby nodded. "Dobby can take you to one, if you want."

Harry took Dobby's hand, and with a pop, arrived in Diagon Alley. He looked around for the armorer, before realizing he was in front of Madam Malkin's shop. "Dobby, I need leather armor, not robes."

The green elf nodded vigorously. "Dobby knows, Harry Potter sir. Madam Malkin be making leather armor also."

Harry nodded, apologetic. "Sorry Dobby, I shouldn't have assumed."

He walked into the store, the bell ringing to announce the presence of a customer. Madam Malkin bustled out, and when she saw Harry she sniffed. "Come to get your school robes a bit early, dear?" she asked.

"No ma'am," Harry answered, "I'm here to get leather armor. My house-elf friend says that you do that here as well."

She looked surprised for a split second, but controlled herself. "Indeed, though not very often."

"And I need it by the end of today," he said, sheepish.

"Well, it won't be anything fancy then," she replied, "but that's certainly doable. Come on, up on the stool please Mister Potter."

Harry stood on the short wooden stool while Madam Malkin's magical tape measure attempted to document every square inch of his body. Pieces of black leather floated towards him, covering his torso in a patchwork of armored pieces. A floating needle and spool of thread began sewing the leather pieces together.

Madam Malkin began directing several wicked looking implements with her wand, as well as what looked like a brush and paint can. "Adds mild spell resistance, dear," she said in response to his worried look.

"Oh, do you have scabbards as well?" Harry asked after remembering he would need one for the Sword.

Madam Malkin smiled, "Yes dear, I do. What size do you need?"

"Um, about this big, I guess?" he said, gesturing the approxamite length with his hands.

She laughed. "Alright, not too sure, are you? I can get you a self-resizing one. Costs a bit extra, but you don't want to get one that doesn't fit."

Harry nodded, and waited for the armor to be finished. It only took another ten minutes before it was completed, and Madam Malkin was satisfied with its fit. He paid his ninty-four galleons, eight sickles, and thirteen knuts and returned to the Dursleys', where he hung his new armor in his closet and tried to get some sleep.

Tomorrow was going to be a big day.

Lord Voldemort sat in his throne at Malfoy Manor, the home of an ancient line of pureblood nobility, waiting for one of his least faithful servants to return. He tapped the arm of the throne with his fingers, his nails sending an echoing click reverberating through the hall. His red eyes gleamed impatiently, and his finger itched to slash emerald death into any fool that dared disrepect him.

"Soon," he murmered to himself. His servant, however disrespectful and disloyal, remained useful. The very instant that changed, the Dark Lord would be there, waiting.

The sharp crack of apparation, and the stench of burning socks, announced the arrival of the Death Eater in question. The Death Eater quickly knelt down, bowing to his master.

"My lord," he began, "I ask for your forgiveness, but I have information you want."

Crimson eyes watched him with interest. "Continue," the high, cold voice rang through the room, sending a shiver down the man's spine.

"The boy is gunna go back to the Department of Mysteries tomorrow, an' Dumbledore is gunna help him. Gonna rescue Sirius Black, I fink 'e said."

The Dark Lord watched him carefully. "Why is it that you think I want this information?"

The Death Eater shuddered, but continued. "The Lovegood girl said 'e would be safe from you on another plane."

Voldemort stilled. Precious seconds passed, and the Death Eater dared not move, or even breathe. "Leave me," he said in a dangerous hiss. The Death Eater complied immediately, vanishing with a crack.

"Bellatrix," he called out, pressing a finger to the Dark Mark on his forearm.

A swirl of black smoke, and the hooded eyes and maniac grin of Bellatrix Lestrange appeared before Voldemort. "My lord, you summoned me?"

"Gather a strike team. We are going to the Ministry again, and this time, you will not fail me."

Tomorrow really _was_ going to be a big day.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Harry sat nervously in the Headmaster's office of Hogwarts' School of Witchraft and Wizardry, watching Fawkes the Phoenix on his perch. In the soft glow of the flickering torches, his newly built armor gleamed like polished onyx. Strapped to his hip was the _Sword of Gryffindor_ , its ruby-encrusted hilt twinkling. Professor Dumbledore sat behind his desk, waiting patiently for the arrival of the others.

The fire in the office flared green for a moment, and out stepped a red-faced Nymphadora Tonks, quickly followed by smiling Remus Lupin. "Don't think this is over, you wretched old man," she muttered to him, before turning her attention to Harry. "Wotcher, Harry."

Harry quickly murmered a reply to Tonks, before addressing Lupin. "Professor Lupin, I didn't know you would be here."

Remus smiled at him, brushing the soot off his well-worn robes. "I'm not your professor anymore, Harry. I haven't been in a while," he said tiredly, before shooting Harry a grin. "And if you think you're going off to rescue Sirius without me, you don't know me very well."

Harry returned his grin weakly before lapsing into awkward silence.

The next to arrive was Neville, emerging from the green flame clad in a gleaming, finely crafted set of chainmail. A plain longsword hung at his hip, and the corner of a shield peeked over his shoulder. His expression displayed nervousness, but was set with determination. Harry couldn't help but think that he had never related so much to Neville Longbottom as he did at that moment.

As Neville moved to stand beside Harry silently, Hermione hopped out of the flames. She wore a pink zip-up hoodie, faded blue jeans, and carried a large backpack crammed with stuff. She moved next to Neville, giving both him and Harry a bright smile. "Are you both ready? I packed plenty of things that we might need," she said quickly, not giving them the chance to respond. "Provisions, a tent, a couple of survival kits, some books," she rambled.

At the blank looks she was receiving, she stopped. "Did I overpack?" she wondered aloud. Neville nodded once, and her face fell. "Oh. Well, we'll have it just in case," she said, rallying herself. "What did you guys bring?" she sniffed, peering down her nose at them.

Harry motioned to his sword, and a small bag at his side. "My Cloak, my wand, the Sword, my armor, and some knick nacks," he rattled off. Hermione frowned.

At Hermione's expectant look, Neville shrugged. "Mainly just this armor, my wand, and my sword," he muttered. "Gran said all I'd need for a heroic quest like this is my wand and my wits."

Hermione's rant had the unintentional effect of letting both boys forget their nervousness momentarily, but as she fell silent the tension grew.

The fire flared up again, sending Ron, Ginny, and Luna tumbling out onto the plush rug. "I told you three at once was too much, but you just _had_ to try it," Ron muttered irritably. Ginny looked ready to respond irately, but stopped when she realized the other occupants of the office were staring. She blushed a flaming red and scampered up, helping Luna to her feet. Ron climbed up without his sister's assistance, still grumbling.

Ron bore a striking silhouette, his red scale armor shining in the firelight. Beside him, his sister looked intimidating with her crimson hair framing her shadowed face. Luna looked as serene and otherworldy as ever, gliding towards Harry with a faint smile.

Dumbledore smiled, inspecting the group through his half-moon spectacles. "Good, everyone is here. I will ask you now if you have reconsidered you part in this quest," he inquired, already knowing the answer.

Neville spoke up. "With all due respect, sir, I believe I speak for everyone when I say," he paused, looking around at the others, "We'll follow anywhere Harry leads us."

Harry felt his throat tighten up, and was about to thank Neville when Dumbledore stood abruptly. "Then let us make haste," the headmaster said jovially, tapping his wand to a decorative rock paperweight on his desk. " _Portus,_ " he intoned. The rock glowed blue for a moment, before fading back to its original color. "On the count of three, touch the rock," he said, hand at the ready.

The others all gathered around the small rock, and Dumbledore began counting. On three, the group touched the rock simultaneously.

With a sharp pulling sensation behind the navel, the group was flung through a vortex of wind and light, spinning through the air like a top. After several seconds of gut-wrenching travel, they were deposited in a heap in the Atrium of the Ministry of Magic. The only travellers left standing were Dumbledore and Lupin, who both smiled at their unfortunate comrades -Dumbledore sympathetically, Lupin amusedly.

"Good mornin', welcome to the Ministry of Magic," said one of the Ministry guards, lowering his wand at the sight of the Headmaster. "What's yeh business today?"

Dumbledore adressed the guard with a smile. "We have an urgent engagement in the Department of Mysteries today, Mister Kelborn. I cleared it with Minister Scrimgeour last night," he said, handing over his wand for inspection.

The others stood up, gathering their scattered posessions. Tonks morphed a pig's nose and an obscene tongue, and used them to make a face at Remus who was still chuckling at her typical clumsiness. One by one, they allowed their wands to be inspected by the guard and moved to join Headmaster Dumbledore.

The elevator ride down was filled with awkward silence. Trying to ease the tension, Dumbledore offered everyone Lemon Drops but was met with limited success. Only Luna accepted his offer, and her loud crunching noises did nothing to help calm the nerves of the others. Harry breathed in, feeling the weight of his armor on his shoulders and the sword at his hip. With a cool announcement ("Level Nine, Department of Mysteries"), the elevator doors opened.

The hallway, covered with smooth black tile and illuminated by blue-white torches, had one other occupant. A short, balding man stood next to the plain black door that lead to the entrance chamber holding a clipboard and a quill. A small bottle of ink hovered patiently next to him.

Harry strode out in tandem with Dumbledore, his resolve steady. The others followed without hesitation, Luna still happily crunching her candies.

As they approached, the man looked up from his clipboard. "Hello, good day, I'm Senior Undersecretary Filonius Tweed," he said, his voice a dull monotone. "The Minister sends his apologies, as he is otherwise occupied at the moment, however he has sent me to oversee the procedure."

Dumbledore nodded gratiously, and motioned to the door. "Thank you. Shall we begin?"

Mr Tweed opened the door, revealing the circular antechamber of the Department of Mysteries. The dark marble floor glinted in the cool blue light, and Harry forcibly pushed away the memories of the last time he visited that room, and the Department.

The group moved into the room, and the door clicked closed behind them. The walls began spinning, the twelve doors whirling around so fast it was impossible to keep track. After several dizzying seconds, the walls stopped. Harry heard Tonks breathe a sigh of relief - she was clumsy enough as it was without extra disorientation.

"Veil Room," Tweed called out in his soulless beaureaucratic voice. One of the doors to Harry's right swung open to reveal a large square room of stone steps leading downward. On a dais at the center was the Archway, the portal they came to pass through. The portal Sirius had fallen through.

The group traveled down to the Archway, stopping fifteen feet short at Dumbledore's command. The Headmaster drew his wand, and began stabilizing the portal (using Hermione's arithmancy calculations to do it).

Tweed took notes on the entire procedure, asking the various group members different questions in his beaurocrat's voice. Harry personally though it was more boring than even the soporific Professor Binns, who had never failed to put a class to sleep.

"What do you plan on doing when you travel through the veil?"

"Have magical accidents happened often to you or in your presence?"

"How did you derive the arithmantic formulas needed to stabilize the portal?"

"How many and what magical items are you bringing through the portal?"

"Could you sign this form? And initial here? And there?"

After several unbearable minutes, Dumbledore dropped his arm. "I believe the portal is stabilized, though for how long I cannot say," he spoke, sounding more tired than usual. "You must enter quickly-"

He was interrupted as Kingsley Shacklebolt burst into the chamber, face reddened from exertion. "Albus, we," he wheezed, out of breath.

Dumbledore held up his hand. "Please, Kingsley. Catch your breath, then continue."

Kingsley took a moment, beating his chest with an open hand. When he had recovered enough, he started again. "We have a serious problem," he continued. "Severus' body has been discovered in his home. He's been ripped to pieces. It looks like Voldemort's work, though why-"

Kingsley's hurried explaination was cut short as a flash of green light illuminated the room. The auror crumpled to the ground in a boneless heap. Behind him loomed the silver-masked face of a Death Eater, wand outstretched. Behind him stood a squadron of dark wizards, ready to tear the Order members apart.

The room erupted in a sudden barrage of light, streaking from both sides of the room. Tonks and Remus leapt forward in front of the children, firing lethal curses at their oncoming foes. Dumbledore sent three flying within a split second, conjuring a whip of fire that coiled around their black robed chests. Tweed dropped his quill and dove to the ground, whimpering.

Harry dropped to his knees, a burning pain flaring through his scar. "He's here," he choked out to his friends, who began scanning the mass of Death Eaters. "Voldemort, he's in the Ministry again."

"I can't see him," Ron shouted over the din. A stray curse blasted the ground next to him, covering him with stone shrapnel. He loudly swore in surprise before ducking down.

The Death Eaters began concentrating their fire on the six teens, who returned fire in earnest. However, the odds were heavily stacked against them, being outnumbered three to one.

With a wave of his wand, Dumbledore erected a glimmering, translucent wall, separating the teenagers and the other combatants. Spells immediately began to impact the wall, fizzling out of existence.

From the mob of Death Eaters, Lord Voldemort stepped into battle. Eyes flashing crimson and robes swirling, he fired killing curses repeatedly. The DA members were forced to dodge as Voldemort's curses began tearing holes right through Dumbledore's shield.

Seeing their difficulties, Dumbledore shouted at them over his shoulder. "Go through the portal, quickly!"

Dumbledore began animating stone shards, propelling them at the Dark Lord and forcing him to stop firing on the teenagers. Voldemort retaliated with a blast of black fire that Dumbledore deflected with a shimmering blue shield.

Watching the rematch of the duel between the two most powerful wizards alive, Harry motioned for the others to start moving. He pulled Luna up from her prone position, dodging out of the way of another Killing Curse. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the Ministry worker, Tweed, point his wand at Dumbledore's back from his prone position.

"Headmaster, look out," Harry shouted too late. A bolt of green lept from the cowardly traitor's wand.

Twisting more deftly than a man his age should be capable, Dumbledore summoned a piece of debris to intercept the deadliest curse. Lupin slashed his wand at Mr Tweed's prone body, sending a spurt of blood shooting from his neck. The ministry worker's head fell to the ground, rolling around with a expression of disbelief on his face. Dumbledore returned to the fight, holding off Voldemort and three Death Eaters at the same time.

Tonks ducked and lept over curses like a woman posessed, her clumsiness gone as if it never existed. Harry watched as her pink hair flared a dangerous green as she barely ducked beneath a Killing Curse. A yellowish bolt struck her in the upper thigh and she dropped to the ground. Harry waited with bated breath, thinking that she was done for.

A split second later, Harry saw three of the Death Eaters drop, unmoving. The Tonks he watched drop faded as the real Tonks appeared on the other side of the room. In her hand was a wicked looking silver dagger, and in her eyes was a cold fury.

 _Note to self,_ Harry thought, _Don't piss off Tonks._

Remus, on the other hand, seemed to be blasting his foes with barrages of simple curses. Several Death Eaters fell with their chests crushed, and more dropped with severed limbs. He watched Remus snarl as he fired a bludgeoner at the skull of a downed Death Eater, ensuring he would never get back up.

Dumbledore continued his defense, dodging and parrying a multitude of curses from two opponents. At some point, he had disabled two of the Death Eaters, and was fighting Voldemort and Bellatrix Lestrange. Gouts of elemental spells splashed between them, mixing to create a pile of chaotic debris. Harry would have described it as beautiful, if it weren't so deadly.

Noticing that Harry was still present, Dumbledore turned back to him. " _Run!_ " he commanded gravely, eyes flashing in desperation.

Seeing that there was nothing he could do here, and his friends had all gone through the portal, Harry turned and ran towards the Archway. The looming stone structure with its fluttering black curtain expanded in his field of vision like a rushing omen of death. He closed his eyes, set his jaw, and leapt into the Veil.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Harry knew the exact moment he passed through the portal, as the sounds of battle cut out to deathly silence. He sailed forward, seemingly weightless for a moment before his foot caught on a hard surface and he tumbled forward.

He opened his eyes and threw up his hands instinctively, landing on rocky ground chest down. A sharp jolt ran through his elbows and shoulders, and he skidded forwards. Sliding almost a foot on his forearms, he gasped in pain. When he ground to an abrupt halt, he rolled on his back and looked down at his arms.

The glaze on the sleeves of his armor was scratched, but the actual leather seemed mostly undamaged. Groaning, he lowered his head, dropped his arms, and closed his eyes. He needed to rest for a moment, catch his breath.

Clawing through the haze of semi-consciousness, he became aware of a panicked conversation happening around him. He opened his eyes, took a deep breath, and climbed slowly to his feet.

"-never thought it wasn't bidirectional," Hermione said, sounding nervous and contrite at the same time.

"What are we going to do?" Ron asked, "The others should have come through by now."

Luna piped in, her voice calm as ever. "We should focus on one problem at a time."

"Yeah, like the fact that we're stuck," Ginny said hotly. "We've got to find a way to get back through that portal."

Harry blinked, trying to focus on Ginny's words, but his vision swam from his ascent. He staggered towards his friends, looking around the room. It was circular, with rough stone walls and floors. A large, smooth iron door was inset into the cave wall, illuminated by one of his friends' wands.

"What's going on," he asked, shaking his head to try clearing the dizziness.

Neville looked around at the others before responding, seemingly reluctant. "Look around, Harry. What isn't here that should be?"

Harry's first thought was Sirius, but quickly discounted that as an option. His friends probably wouldn't be so panicked about that. He looked around again, taking the details of the wall contours in. The iron door he had noticed before had a round handle, and rivets lining its outside. Apart from the door, there was nothing-

With a horrible clenching feeling in his gut, Harry realized the problem. "There's no return portal," he said hollowly.

"And Tonks and Lupin haven't come through yet," Ron added. "It's been almost five minutes, the battle is surely over by now."

They all stilled, and contemplated the terrifying, very real possibility that Voldemort's servants had overpowered the Headmaster and the Order members.

"We don't know for sure that Auror Tonks and Professors Dumbledore and Lupin are dead," Luna reassured. "If they had been killed, Voldemort would have sent someone through the portal to kill us."

"And Professor Dumbledore is the most powerful wizard in the world," Hermione said, but Harry thought she was just trying to convince herself.

"We need to give Professor Dumbledore more time," Harry said authoratatively. He checked his watch. _10:26_. "We'll give him half an hour, then start looking for other options."

Harry sat down on the rocky ground, catching his breath. His friends joined him reluctantly, Hermione pulling a deck of muggle cards from her pack.

After several hands of poker, in which Neville took the largest stack of rocks they were using as chips, Harry looked at his watch again. _11:03._

"Damnit," Harry murmured, "There's no way the battle is taking this long."

"Perhaps there's something stopping them from coming through the portal," Luna suggested logically.

Hermione pursed her lips. "Professor Dumbledore did say the stabilization had a time limit. Maybe they were too late."

"In any case, we can't stay here forever," Harry said. Standing up, he moved towards the only feature of this room: the iron door.

As he reached for the round handle, he felt a hand on his chest push him back. He looked over in surprise at Ron, who was holding him back with a worried look on his face.

"I just had a thought, mate," he began. "What if this is the afterlife, and that door is... you know," he floundered, before simply waving his hand dramatically. "It."

"Then we've got nothing to lose by opening it," Harry said firmly, and turned the door handle. Hermione shrieked, and Harry felt his hands go cold.

Beyond the door was a wide hallway, dimly lit by the group's wandlight, eleven feet wide. Skeletons hung from chains embedded into the ceiling, which were being gripped tightly by their bony hands. The corridor extended as far as their wands illuminated, and so did the skeletons.

"Merlin," Ginny breathed, "where are we?"

Harry lit his wand with a quiet _lumos_ , held his wand in his off hand, and drew the _Sword of Gryffindor_. Walking carefully into the hall, he motioned for the others to follow.

"Don't touch them, nobody touch them," Ron said in a whisper. "Bill's told all sorts of stories about the horrible curses some people put on tombs."

The rest of the group quickly resolved to stay as far away from the hanging corpses as possible. They pressed themselves to the wall, moving carefully past each skeleton one by one. When Harry passed the fifth skeleton, there was a clattering noise behind him.

"Bugger, sorry," Neville said, having accidentally bumped into one of the skeletons.

The all the skeletons began to shake and clatter, and at once loosened their grip. They dropped to the floor, standing on their own despite lacking the musculature to do so. With panic barely restrained, Harry yelled out his command. "Run!"

They ran, dodging swipes from the skeletons as they did. One of the skeletons in front of Harry moved to block his passage, grinning maniacally. Harry swung his blade at the mad skeleton, and the sword cut through the skeleton's ribcage like butter. Kicking the bones away, Harry continued down the passage at a full sprint.

Behind him, he heard a cry of pain. Reflexivly turning to look, he saw Ginny's hair had been grabbed by one of the skeletons, and it was beginning to drag her away. Instinctively, Harry raised his wand, but before he could act Ginny blasted two Reductor curses over her shoulder at the creature. Both went wide, sending debris showering between him and the rest of the group and obscuring his vision.

He felt a clawed hand gripping his shoulder and swung around, removing the skeleton's head with the sword. Its lifeless bones dropped to the ground with a clatter.

Turning back to his friends, he saw Neville and Ron supporting Ginny, flanked by Luna and Hermione, emerging from the dust. Satisfied, he turned to face the oncoming horde.

"Get back, Harry," he heard Ron cry out. Stepping back a few feet, he deflected the clawed hands that reached for him with his sword. The shambling skeletons didn't advance fast enough to keep up with him. Just as Harry reached his friends, Ron lifted his wand with a maniac expression.

"This is for my sister, you gits," he crowed. " _Bombarda_!"

A streak of red flame erupted from his wand, blossoming at a point in the center of the bony mass. With a burst of heat, the point exploded into a massive fireball which engulfed all the approaching skeletons, vaporizing them.

The group stood shocked. "Um, when did you learn to do that, mate?" Harry asked his friend.

Ron looked at him, stunned. "I didn't know that was gonna happen," he blinked. "Maybe I did the wand movement wrong or something."

Hermione shook her head. "No, I was watching you. You did it right," she said, frowning to herself.

"Well, whatever it was, it was fantastic!" said Neville, from the other side of Ginny. "Keep it up!"

Ron grinned widely, though he grew serious at seeing the angry red scratches on his sister's cheek.

The group continued along the corridor, and after fifty more feet the hall took a sharp turn right. Following it, they found two turnoffs leading right and one dead end. One, the first, had an iron portcullis leading into a dark room. The other had a wooden door that seemed to be stuck in its frame.

Opting against trying to force their way through the iron portcullis, Harry lead the group to the wooden door. With one kick, the door splintered open to reveal a large, unlit dining hall. The floor and walls were smoother stone, and a long wooden table dominated the room. The table, which was at least fifty feet long, had silverware and chairs set out in the proper fashion every five feet. There was no food present, only unlit candles and wilted flower centerpieces. One solitary chair was misaligned, having been dragged away from the table.

The group moved up to the table and pulled out six chairs, sitting in a circle.

"We need to decide how to proceed," Hermione said, pulling a finger bone out of her hair.

The others nodded. Neville looked at Harry for a moment, before asking to talk to him alone. Harry pulled him to the other side of the room, out of earshot.

"What did you need to talk about, Neville," Harry asked, massaging his shoulder.

Neville looked anxious, his eyes darting around furtively. "How did You-Kno... V-Voldemort... know that we were going to be at the Ministry today?"

Harry furrowed his brow, thinking hard. "Well, that Tweed fellow seemed like a Death Eater sympathizer, maybe he told Voldemort what we were up to."

"No," Neville said, unconvinced, "That's not right. Tweed didn't have a chance to tell anyone, and how would V-Voldemort have placed him there without already knowing about it?"

"What are you suggesting?" Harry asked bluntly. "We know Tweed betrayed us, he tried to kill Dumbledore."

Neville looked up in surprise. "Really?" he said hopefully, then immediately hastened to explain. "Not that I think it's a good thing someone tried to kill Professor Dumbledore, but it sure beats getting betrayed by someone here."

"Hang on," Harry said slowly. "Kingsley said that they had found Snape dead in his house. How often do you think the Ord- people check his home?" Harry caught himself. Neville didn't know about the Order, despite the fact that both his parents had been members.

"I dunno," Neville said. "What are you thinking?"

"If Snape was there since yesterday," Harry explained, "that means it couldn't have been Tweed."

"Why is Snape important to this?" Neville asked, not knowing about the Order and Snape's role as spy.

Harry explained. "Snape was spying on Voldemort for Dumbledore, pretending to be a spy _for_ Voldemort. If Snape didn't give him the information, Voldemort would have known he was a traitor."

Neville absorbed that bit of information for a few seconds. "And V-Vol-Voldemort would have given Snape a chance to come forward, probably a few hours. If he didn't, he'd know Snape was an enemy spy like you said." He thought for a moment, reaching the natural conclusion. "So Tweed probably wasn't the only traitor," he said, glancing fearfully at the others, who were chatting animatedly amongst themselves.

"Yeah," Harry said.

"What do we do?" Neville asked.

Harry looked at the circle of his closest friends, and came to a resolution. "We talk to each other. We can't keep this a secret, it'll tear us apart." Harry gestured passionately, "Voldemort's people rely on shadows and secrecy to survive."

Neville looked over again, once, before looking back and nodding. "Ok, let's do it."

They walked over to the group and began. "We have bad news. It's quite likely that one of us fed Voldemort information," Harry said seriously. He watched his friends' reactions, but saw only the shock and surprise warranted.

"Why don't we go around and tell the others why we don't think it could be us," Hermione said after she recovered.

"It's not me," Ginny said, eyes flaring. "I hate Voldemort. He tried to kill me in my first year."

Mulling Ginny's exclaimation over, Hermione gave her evidence. "It's obviously not me. Voldemort would never accept the help of a mudblood," she said viciously. "And I wouldn't help such a terrible bigot anyway."

"Mate, You-Know-Who killed by uncles. Mum still can't think about them without breaking into tears," said Ron.

"I wouldn't want to hurt the only friends I have," began Luna in her soft voice. "Besides, Voldemort doesn't believe in crumple-horned snorkacks, and that's just silly."

"My gran would kill me," Neville smiled. "I wouldn't even think of helping the people who... you know," he stopped, rubbing the back of his neck, "hurt my parents."

Harry breathed out heavily. "And I assume you know why I wouldn't help Voldemort," he said.

"That was unhelpful," Ron said snarkily. "We've eliminated everyone here!"

"Maybe it was an accident," Neville said meekly. "And they don't even know."

"Or maybe," said Luna, "there's someone we hadn't considered."

"Who?" asked Hermione sharply. "Who did we miss? No one else knew the details of our plan!"

Luna opened her mouth slowly, and the group leaned forward in anticipation. "I don't know," she said, to the groans of the group. "I was just pointing out that since we eliminated all the suspects, we must not have had the whole suspect list."

As the group hung their heads, she added brightly, "I read it in a book!"

"Well, that's going to bother me forever," Ron muttered.

Hermione shook her head. "There are more important things right now. While you two were off discussing this problem, we were testing out some simple magic." Hermione looked at Harry, worried. "There is something very wrong with magic here."

"How so?" Harry asked, resigned for even more bad news.

Hermione waved her wand, and a glowing wooden cube appeared in her hand. "I tried to do a simple conjuration spell, which normally would have required a bunch of effort. I did it in less than a second," she said.

Harry looked at her, perplexed. "So, magic is easier here. How is that a problem?"

"No," she responded, "it's not easier. I cannot perform a single Transfiguration spell. Not one."

Harry pulled out his wand. "What do you mean?" he said, waving his wand at a nearby rock. " _Ligna,_ " he intoned. The rock stubbornly refused to turn to wood.

"What does it mean?" Neville asked.

Hermione sighed. "It means that the laws of magic are different in this plane of existance. It means that most of our education is useless here. And worst of all, it means-"

Hermione was interrupted as Luna shoved a berry in her mouth. "Here, try this," she said with a smile. "I can conjure food here!"

Hermione reluctantly chewed her berry, pushing Luna's hand away from her mouth. Swallowing, she glared halfheartedly. "Don't interrupt me, Luna."

Luna looked back at her unapologetically. "You were about to panic. Would anyone like a berry?" she asked, adressing the rest of the group.

The rest of the group took Luna's berries hesitantly. Chewing the small purple fruit, they discovered that the berries were quite juicy, and surprisingly filling.

"So, magic here is wonky," Ron said with a mouthful of berries. "So what?"

Surprisingly, it was Neville that answered him. "So, we have new abilities, and have lost old ones, or had them changed or whatever. It's important to know what we can do, especially in a place that has angry animated skeletons."

"Right," Harry said, "about those."

Standing behind the broken door were the skeletons Ron had turned into little piles of black ash, nearly completely reformed. Soot streamed up from the ground, trailing behind the skeletons and curling up their arms. They tilted their heads back and shook slightly, sending a chilling clicking througout the room. Harry got the distinct impression they were laughing.

"Run," he said, before all hell broke loose.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6:**

" _Stupefy!_ "

A jet of crimson light arced behind the group as their feet pounded on the stone floor, the spell sending one of the skeletons into a crumpled heap of bone. Harry twisted his body back to face forward, already accelerating to catch up to the rest of the group.

The group barreled down a twisting stone hallway, doors on either side whizzing past. Harry chanced another look back, the sight of the still-advancing horde sending involuntary chills down his back. Looking over at Ron, he shouted out.

"You have another one of those fireballs up your sleeve?"

A weak, flickering bolt of fire streaking back towards the skeletons gave Harry all the answer he needed. He bit back a curse, and considered their options. They could not run forever – they were quickly tiring – and whatever Ron had done before seemed to be a fluke. His magic seemed to be on the fritz, and he wasn't nearly handy enough with a sword to take on an army of the living dead.

" _Spinae_ ," a light, though somewhat winded, voice interrupted his panicked strategizing. At Luna's command, hundreds of spines rose like hairs from the stone behind them. As the skeletons ran full-tilt through the bed of razors, their legs were shredded. Clouds of dust began expanding from the blockade, and the group appeared to have earned a reprieve.

"Keep going," said Harry commandingly. "We don't know how long that'll hold them, and we need to find a way out!"

They continued winding through the corridors, though at a less frenzied pace. After a few minutes of traveling, during which the group congratulated Luna on her quick thinking and spellwork, they arrived at another iron door that ended the corridor.

Ron quickly tried the handle, only to curse. "Locked," he muttered, his shoulder stinging from Hermione's rebuke ("Language!"). She pulled him away from the door and waved her wand.

" _Alohomora_ ," she murmured. The door remained locked.

Harry lunged for the door, delivering a solid punch born of frustration directly into two-inch solid steel. A sickening crunch echoed around the hall, and he let out a surprised gasp of pain. Immediately, both Hermione and Ginny began berating him for his stupidity as he cradled his now injured hand.

"I'm out of ideas," Harry said, ignoring Hermione's dirty (but worried) look.

Ginny looked up at him while wrapping his hand with a handkerchief from her bag. "We could always blast it."

Lacking any better ideas, the group stepped back and leveled their wands. " _Expulso_ ," they incanted as one.

Of all the wands pointed at the door, only one seemed to have any effect. Rich purple bolts of energy erupted from Ginny's wand, impacting the door. The first dissipated harmlessly, but the second ripped through the locking mechanism protecting the door.

With no latch to hold the door shut, it swung open with little effort. The bright light of the sun blinded the group for a moment, before their eyes adjusted from the darkness of the dungeon.

Before them was a large field of tall yellowing grass. Mountains dominated the horizon to the north, barely sixty miles away. To the northeast, a large forest was visible, with clear signs of a road leading to a distant town. The scene was picturesque, a scene from the English countryside.

Harry clapped an uninjured hand on Ron's dragonhide-covered shoulder, and glibly remarked, "Not the afterlife after all."

Ron returned the gesture, and the friends stepped into the outside world.

"I think we should head to that town over there," Neville suggested. When no one disagreed, he began walking northeast.

Harry rubbed his injured hand, aware with each step of the throbbing pain shooting through it. Noticing his discomfort, Luna sidled up to him and raised her wand.

"May I?" she inquired softly, her gentle hands unwrapping Harry's makeshift bandage and revealing the injury. At Harry's nod, she whispered a low incantation, and his knuckles popped painfully back into place. A few beats later, the abrasions on his hands began to disappear as well.

Harry looked at Luna, impressed. "Thanks Luna," he smiled at her, wiggling his fingers experimentally. "My hand feels much better now."

With a dazed, but pleased smile, Luna set off to catch up with the others.

As they continued walking for a few minutes, sharing in some light banter to relieve the tension that had built up, they neared the edge of the town. Villagers scurried through the streets, going about their business pulling carts and selling fruits. The group halted.

"Muggles," Neville asserted confidently. "What do we do?"

Hermione looked doubtful. "Those don't look like any muggles I've ever seen," she mused, "except maybe at a Renaissance fair."

Harry looked around at the group. Their robes would not blend in well with any group of muggles, not even those in costume. "Did anyone pack muggle clothes?" he asked, already knowing the answer.

Out of the group, only Hermione and himself even owned muggle clothing. Hermione waved her wand towards Ginny, only to let out a frustrated huff as her attempt at transfiguring his clothing failed to take hold.

"Well, at least Hermione, Neville, and I will blend in," Harry said ruefully. "The rest of you can lay low here. We'll see if we can't buy you some clothing to fit in."

With that, the trio set off into the medieval-looking town.

"This is an excellent replica," Hermione said quietly as they passed between two merchants shouting at each other over prices. "I visited a reproduction like this when I was younger, but this is much better. In fact," she stopped, pointing to a large square-based stone tower on the edge of town, "that tower is still under construction. And not using modern means, either."

Harry frowned, thinking. "Maybe they just take their roleplaying very seriously here," he remarked.

"Maybe," Hermione didn't look convinced.

"Guys, look," Neville interrupted, pointing at a low stone building. "A clothier."

Harry peered at the building, and sure enough, a wooden sign hung beside the door displayed a pictograph of a shirt. Giving Neville an appreciative grin, he strode towards the door, narrowly avoiding being run over by a horse and cart.

"Sorry, sorry," he shouted over his shoulder at the angry driver, before entering the store with the sound of a ringing bell.

The front room was small, with no merchandise to speak of. To the right, a small area was curtained off with an ugly floral-patterned cloth. Behind a low desk sat a wrinkled old woman sewing a patch onto a damaged pair of trousers. As the three entered, she looked up. "How can I help you- oh, adventurers," she said, her tone becoming more welcoming as she saw the glistening – and expensive-looking – chain worn by Neville.

"Yes, we are adventurers," Hermione said, catching on quickly and playing along. "Three of our friends are stuck outside town without appropriate clothing. Their clothes were damaged recently, and to protect their modesty we came to gather replacements."

The woman eyed Hermione's pink jumper critically. "It looks like your friends aren't the only ones who need new clothing, darling. Why are you wearing those, did you lose a bet?"

Harry cut in. "Never mind that, I guess we need four outfits. How much is that going to be?"

She smiled at him, her expression slightly unnerving. "That'll be twenty eight silver pieces, dear."

Before Hermione could stop him, he pulled out a fistful of galleons. "How many of these would cover it?"

The woman examines his outstretched hand, and takes three coins. "These real gold?" she asks. Harry nods in return. "Then this should cover it." She examined them closely, remarking, "Though I don't recognize the design." She shook herself out of her stupor and asked for information on their friends, which Hermione gave.

The woman pottered off to the back room, clutching her newly acquired treasure tightly. As soon as she was out of earshot, Hermione berated Harry. "She was swindling you, Harry. Why did you give her the money?"

"We don't want to arouse suspicion here," Harry explained. "If that means I slightly overpay for clothes, so be it."

The woman returned with a small bundle of brown cloth, wrapped in twine. Pulling a dress out from the pile, she handed it to Hermione. "Changing room is over there, dear."

Hermione took the dress reluctantly, entering the curtained area. Several minutes of awkward silence later, and Hermione emerged from the changing room.

The dress was a plain, dark brown color with light blue threads decorating the hem. The material was rough, and though the shape flattered Hermione's figure and the color complemented her hair, she looked very uncomfortable. As she walked past them awkwardly, she snarled "Not one word, either of you."

Once they had exited the clothier's shop, Neville asked a very dangerous question. "Where are you keeping your wand, Hermione?"

Harry privately thought that either Neville was much braver than he – or much more foolish – because at that moment Hermione's glare was enough to curdle milk.

~?~

"You know, we should avoid meeting any Dribblegoors. Their eight eyes shoot spells strong enough to kill a young dragon, and they are very vicious," Luna said in a very matter-of-fact manner.

Ron breathed deeply. "Why'd you bring that up, Luna?"

She cocked her eyebrow, her large eyes boring into his. "We're somewhere new. Strange things are probably everywhere around us, even moreso than home."

Ginny massaged her legs, ignoring the conversation. "If I knew we were going to be doing so much running, I would have practiced more," she groused.

Ron's snide response was interrupted by the arrival of the rest of their company. Tossing the bundle of clothes to Ron, Neville gave some hard-learned advice to the others. "Nobody say anything about Hermione's dress."

Ron untied the bundle and tossed Ginny and Luna their dresses as well. Ginny made a face at the dress, but otherwise made no complaint. "You three, turn around," she said, referring to Harry, Ron, and Neville. "If you peek, I will-"

She was interrupted by Neville. "Do horrible, horrible things to us. We get it."

It took entirely too long for the two to change into their new clothes as Luna seemed to get stuck multiple times, requiring assistance from both Hermione and Ginny to get untangled. Finally, it was Ron's turn, and he put on his new trousers and shirt on top of his skin-tight dragonhide armor.

Ginny scratched her side, looking very uncomfortable. "It itches," she complained loudly.

"And it's too tight," Hermione said sourly.

Luna picked up her dress like a fairytale princess and gave it a twirl. "But such lovely colors," she interrupted Ron, who had been about to complain about the garish color palate. "This is fun, dressing up together. Almost like having friends," she said happily.

"You _are_ our friend, Luna," Harry spoke calmly, willing her to sense the truth in his words. "You have proved that more than once."

Luna blinked, her large eyes gleaming with what Harry thought were echoes of tears. Before anyone could react, Luna propelled herself forcefully at him. "Do you really mean it?" she asked, hugging him tightly.

Not quite sure how to respond, he patted her back. "Yeah, I do."

"Ditto," Ginny said forcefully from behind Luna. The others echoed the sentiment, and by the end of it Luna's eyes were a bit red, but she sported a wide smile.

Uncomfortable with the heavy emotion that hung over the group, Harry cleared his throat. "So now that we're properly disguised, we should start asking around about Sirius."

It took them several minutes to get themselves together, planning to separate and regroup at the unfinished tower. Checking that their magical implements were hidden – but still accessible – the group set off individually.

"Excuse me," Harry addressed a man wearing a chain shirt who was leaning lazily on his sharp-looking spear. "Have you seen a man, about this tall, black hair," he held up his hand to Sirius' approximate height, but the man looked barely interested. "Might have gone by the name Sirius?"

The man looked Harry up and down disinterestedly. "Nope, no one by that name that I know of. Check in the tavern, the barkeep may know something."

Harry was about to ask where exactly the tavern was when the man turned around and walked away. "Well, that was a bit rude," Harry muttered.

Looking around town for a bit, he eventually found a small building which the townsfolk indicated was the tavern. Inside, the atmosphere was boisterous and celebratory, with the patrons drinking loudly and cheering. Harry half-expected the room to quiet at his entrance, but at the patrons' lack of reaction Harry walked up to the bar.

Behind the tall wooden counter, a rotund man sporting a wide friendly smile and a bushy brown beard picked up a rag and begun wiping out a polished wooden tankard. "Don't think I've seen you before," he commented in a friendly baritone. "What's your name, stranger?"

Harry introduced himself awkwardly, and couldn't help but think of the difference in atmosphere between this tavern, the _Leaky Cauldron_ , and the _Hog's Head_. From the corner of his eye, he saw Neville enter the tavern and quickly sit in a corner booth.

"What's your poison?" the barkeep, who introduced himself as Travis, interrupted Harry's observation.

"Oh, uh," Harry stammered, slightly flustered, "Do you have butterbeer?"

Harry instantly kicked himself as Travis' brows furrowed. _Butterbeer wasn't a muggle drink,_ he thought. Hopefully it wouldn't arouse any suspicion.

The barkeep's smile widened into an amused grin, crooked teeth catching the tip of his tongue. "No, can't say I do son." His beard twitched in thought, and Travis continued. "You know, you're the second person to ask me for that in the last month. What is it, some foreign specialty from Amokade?"

Harry's mental self-flagellation at his slip stopped immediately, and he snapped to attention. "Who else asked?" he questioned loudly. The man drinking in the seat next to him sloshed his ale onto his overalls in surprise and gave Harry a dirty look, which Harry ignored.

"A fellow by the name of Sirius Black," Travis said. "A friend of yours?"

Harry paused for a minute. He had just found the first real proof that Sirius survived. His godfather was alive. "You could say that," Harry said, pushing back the lump that had grown in his throat. "He's my godfather."

In that moment, he didn't care that he still did not know where Sirius was, or even where he was for that matter. All he cared about was that for once, things seemed to be going his way.


End file.
